I’ve seen pretty much all of The Next Generation. Some girls attended father-daughter dances; others played softball. Dad and I used to watch ST:TNG reruns every Saturday night back in fifth grade. At that point he’d already been a lifelong Trekkie, having been addicted to the original series when he was a teenager. He also owned stacks of the novelizations—they resided on his flimsy bookcases right alongside Ben Bova, Stephen Jay Gould, Carl Sagan, and a complete Encyclopedia Britannica. By the time I was ten, I was almost as much of a nerd: aside from the fact that my idea of a good Saturday afternoon was to be holed up inside the Skokie Public Library for seven hours, I could mouth Star Trek’s opening monologue right along with Patrick Stewart.
Back then, I was not aware of the show’s relevance as a cultural touchstone or as a symbol of geekiness; I was only fascinated by the depth of characterization and the well-planned narratives (although I could not have explained it to you as such). But I do remember one time I asked my father why he enjoyed it so much. He said he appreciated how Gene Roddenberry had put so much detail and effort into creating an entirely different universe.
These days, I also share a similar appreciation for well-designed systems; it’s the same trait that has drawn me toward education reform. In many ways, I am very much my father’s daughter. If the new film’s release date was a little more timely, and if my schedule permitted, I would absolutely be seeing it on Father’s Day with my dad.
